A Good Bye to Brother B

We couldn't get too far into this without an opportunity to offer a moment of reverence to my recently departed brother. Bill left us at the age of 47 on June 13, 2005. He died of an aneurysm while traveling in Japan, a place he had come to love and find peace. So, I suppose, it should be no surprise that he found his lasting peace while there.

We were brothers first, but he was also my business partner and best friend. I lost all three at once and I'm still struggling with the lessons we're all supposed to learn from this. Perhaps the point is we're just meant to learn from the life he led; how he savored it and how he so loved his family.

When someone leaves us suddenly, as Bill did, it's quite easy to find things we wish we could have told him, or to have been able to hug him just one more time. I missed his call just before his airplane took off and his last words to me were nothing more than a recorded message saying he had to turn off his phone. I could have taken his call, as I saw it pop up on the Caller ID, but I chose to continue to talk to my drunk Irish partner, thinking I would have time to call him back. Mind you, this is no revelation, but isn't that the point? That we always believe we have more time. That we don't think we're getting the last call from someone.? But for the hubris of situational immortality, I would have had a final chat and, who knows, perhaps we could have said something important. Or I could have just left it at, "have a great trip."

The other regret is that I never got around to making him a tribute for our many years of working together. Those of you who know us are aware that Bill and I were each finding new interests -- he with Tozai and me with Capitol Links. It seems he went west and I went east. With the change, I wanted to make up something to commemorate our working relationship other than the always fun transfer of funds. One of the things you had to know about Bill was his confounding desire to tell the truth. When dealing with our clients -- political clients at that -- honesty isn't always necessary. But it was to Bill and that's what made him special in a lousy business. My planned tribute to Bill was to borrow the words of Paul Simon when he wrote about his partner, Art Garfunkel, deciding to find other joys in life when he penned "The Only Living Boy in New York." A part of it went like so:

Let your honesty

shine, shine, shine, shine

like it shined on me...

The important thing is that I didn't need to say this to him; he knew that's how I felt. So perhaps, I shouldn't carry any regrets on that front.

Now the family is just down to Peter and me. We'll carry the load for Sue, Cass and Janee and the others who departed all too soon in keeping the family name in good standing. Or at least not let it slip any further.

It's been two months, Bill, and I miss and love you more than you can imagine.